"Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

Tuesday, November 17, is an anniversary.

Specifically, it’s the 10^th anniversary of my quintuple-bypass heart surgery.

Wednesday, November 17, 1999, started out as just another day. I had an appointment for a cardiovascular stress test at O’Connor Hospital in San Jose, California. I was having health concerns and my doctor recommended having the stress test done to get an overall picture of my health status.

A cardiovascular stress test consists of having your heart rate measured in a state of rest, then getting on a treadmill and walking. The treadmill starts slowly, then incrementally speeds up as well as gradually elevating. As you walk, a technician monitors your heart rate and a cardiologist is on hand to supervise the test.

The goal is to stay on the treadmill as long as you are able. When you feel yourself getting tired, you let the people running the test know that you can’t do any more. You then get off the treadmill (or are assisted off) and your now-elevated heart rate is measured.

On this particular day I got my heart rate measured, got on the treadmill and started the test. About five minutes in, I gasped that I needed to get off as I was having chest pains and having trouble breathing. The cardiologist had me lie down and, concerned about my treadmill performance, had me wheeled into a nearby room to get a heart angiogram.

The cardiologist looked at the angiogram results. He looked at me. He said, “I’m admitting you for surgery.”

I zipped through the process of hospital admittance and wound up in an available bed in the emergency ward. As I lay in the bed, a doctor came over and introduced himself as the anesthesiologist for my surgery. “I’m going to give you a shot to relax you,” he said. He gave me the shot and wished me well. I lay back in the bed and, within moments, drifted off to sleep.

A nurse saying my name and gently shaking me brought me back to consciousness. I looked around and saw that I was in the intensive care unit. The surgery was a done deal.

The surgeon who did the operation came by to see how I was doing and wished me a speedy recovery.

I spent 2½ days in intensive care, taking it easy, looking at the walls, looking at the equipment monitoring my condition and occasionally daydreaming. Then it was off to a secondary care ward where my recuperation continued. I didn’t just lie in bed though. Part of the recuperation involved getting out of bed and moving around. My right leg had provided the veins necessary for the bypass surgery and I needed to build up the leg’s strength.

On Wednesday, November 24, the hospital discharged me. A friend of mine, who had visited me in the hospital, invited me to stay with him and his family while I recovered enough to be sufficiently mobile to go home. I stayed with my friend and his family for about a week, then went home and began my recovery period.

Now, it’s nearly 10 years later. Whenever I look at myself in the mirror when I shave or when I’m drying off from a shower, I see the scar that begins about an inch below the base of my neck and ends about an inch below the midpoint of my chest.

I think about the people and the things I would have missed had I not gotten the surgery.

I think about how fortunate I am to be alive.

Happy anniversary.

The CD Fiberglass Rocket by Jon & the Nightriders.  It's a great album of instrumental surf music, containing both covers and original songs performed with amazing energy.  It always makes me smile when I listen to it.

On a scorching day, I prefer the beach.  You can find a good place to grab some lunch, there's usually a cool breeze blowing and you can enjoy the sight and sound of the surf rolling in.

Storm Dancer by Jon & the Nightriders.  Instrumental surf that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.  It was the first book in the series where the characters really came to life for me.  Also, it was the first book where Harry finds out he is not alone: there is an adult who cares for him very much and who also knew Harry's parents.

The last movie I saw was "The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3."  Denzel Washington and John Travolta did terrific jobs in their roles and Brian Helgeland's screenplay kept the tension ratcheted up.  The story pretty much fell apart in the third act; however, the movie was definitely worth the price of admission.

My favorite phrase in a foreign language is the French phrase je ne sais quoi, which refers to "an elusive quality."  It sounds better than saying (or reading) that someone or something has a quality you can't quite describe.

If I could have one wish come true this month, it would be for a job (I'm currently unemployed).

Marion Cunningham from "Happy Days."  She seemed really cool for a mother.  I also loved it whenever her husband Howard would suggest something somewhat risque, she'd respond with "Howard!  Are you feeling frisky?"